The unreleased live album, recorded April + October 1963.
Includes the artwork planned for the official release.
A few images: Front cover, Back cover, Liner notes.
(In Concert liner notes) Blowin' In The Wind By Bob Dylan One reason why I could never be a cop in this system under all systems is that the persons I'd be bustin' would be committin' crimes that ain't on any books yet - crimes that ain't on any records yet - that nobody's got any laws ffor yet - Me an' a friend a mine slumped in our seats an stared t the stage where two Negroes were well lit up an singin' an actin' out dances that the prisoners do on the chain gangs - their guitar player sat back inn the shadows on a perched up stool an' played the chords to go along with their unseen hammers swingin' - The two singers wore gold striped silk red shirts with the buttons open pretty low and nylon pants that were kinda tight - In between the songs they sang they told jokes ... Negro jokes - jokes about Negroes an' cowboys - jokes about Negroes an' bears - jokes about Negroes an' Tennessee Williams - jokes about Negroes an' Negroes - After every punch line the audience'd howl an' laugh madly an' guzzle down more beer t the tune a their satisfied hearts poundin' with a happy-go-lucky beat - Then the singer'd introduce the next song an all ears'd come t attention like some kinda school was in session... "Black is the Color 'f My True Love's Hair is an old slave song that we have brought up t date an slightly arranged in a somewhat different style an we'd like t do it now for..." I leaned back in my chair an stared at the ceilin' an said in my head "I don't believe this" Then the lights dimmed an a sound pierced the air an stayed there "Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaakkkkkkk" I looked fast t the stage an all 'f a sudden a sweat broke an both 'f the singers' faces an chests were streamin' an' drippin' with fiery perspiration water - "i the color 'f my tarue love's Haaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiirrrrrrr rrrrr..........." I hummed my own tune in my head an chain smoked five cigarettes an' when the people at the next table clapped I knew the soh was done - I listened through the next Negro joke an' heard the audience howl an somehow pictured the little girl up front tellin' her mother "Mother, Negrroes aren't so bad, they make fun a themselves an' everythin'..." They introduced their next song with a smile an words somethin' like "This next song comes from the cotten fields 'f Alabama an it's called Rosy... it's about a girl who... an' they sing it wwhen..." Then they both paused an stood there with their eyes closed - the audience hushed - the singers' faces started curlin' up in anger - they started breathin' harder - th elights dimmed they both turned sideways with half their faces glarin' in the light - they were almost pantin' when their arms raised slowly above their heads an' came crashin' down with a thunderous blow that shattered their knee caps an' in the same instant second both 'f their vocies bloated out "Rooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooosseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Eeeee..........." That tune lasted for about ten cigarettes an when it was over an' the song was played out they bowed t all sides 'f the room in a drippin' wet sweat an I could picture the girl up front again sayin' t her mother "Mother, Negroes don' wanna hurt anybody, they just have all that rhythm an' stuff..." But this time I'd stare at the ceilin' This time it didn't strike me so funny It didn't strike me funny one little bit For I couldn't help but think about people like Ivan Donaldson down in Danville - An' I started thinkin' about Jim Foreman who I stood next t on a Mississippi sound truck an watched his face while he told the people why they gotta go vote- I started thinkin' about John Lewis whose speech was cut down in Washington cause some people were afraid t speak on the same platform with somebody who could actually think t say "We shall march thru the South like Sherman's Army" - I started thinkin'about Mrs. McGee who risked her only life t lend her dusty dried out faarm land down on Highway 82 outside 'f Greenwood for a registration rally - I thought about Jimmy Travis who got shot up by unknown rifles aimin' for Bob Moses - An I thought about Bob Moses who's labeled a "dangerous outsider an agitator" every place from Clarcksdale t Greenville t Hattiesburg t Jackson - I thought about beautiful Bernice an the rest a the Freedom Singers who could sweat jus' as hard an' move their bodies jus' as good but know that they don' have t - I started thinkin' about hundreds 'f headlines that tell stories like they were happenin' in a far away country on tell 'm in the kinda way t make people sit around analizin' an' discussin' an' philosophizin' an theorizin' like some kinda college sociology problem was takin' place an' nothin' more - I thought about Miles Davis An MAvis Staples An Paul Robeson An Diana Sands An James Baldwin But WORSE 'N THAT... I thought about the petty thief - the poor petty thief who gets nailed ffor robbin' a jewelry store an' all he wanted t do was pawn a watch so his wife an kids could get better - The poor petty criminal who makes his statement t the world by acceptin' time out a his life for tryin' t rob his way out 'f a rut - The poor petty robber who never hits the entertainment section - the headline section - the stockmarket section - the classified section - he don' even make the funny paage section - I looked back t the stage where the lights were dimmin' again an' I asked the mirror in my mind... "What's this word, criminal anyway?" "Who's the biggest criminal?" "Who distorts the most about the world?" "Who covers up the most about the way things really are?" "Who shows more people in more ways the way things really ain't?" "Who does the most damaage t people's heads?" "Who sets more people's minds up so that anybody can come along an tell 'm anythin' an they'll believe it?" Who tells the most people that in a time 'f proudness there's nothin' a be proud 'f?" An all 'f a sudden I could see an imaginary world in which I was a cop - An I knew what I'd do my first night on the beat - I'd pick up my badge at the station an' head out right away for this place I was sittin' - I'd be very cool as I walked slowly t the door - Then I'd crash through with my handcuffs clangin'... I'd bulldoze through the chairs an' tables shoutin' with my finger pointin' an'my gun wavin'... "YER UNDER ARREST... IN THE NAME A THE LAW" Then I'd stand 'm against the wall an frisk 'm 'f their weapons 'f nylon clothes - ssnap the cuffs on - send for squad car - an hang a sign around their heads so innocent people wouldn't get too near... "BUSTED"1995 1996 1997 1998 T-list CDs